Home and Away
by Field
Summary: In the Cross Culture series, set just after 'Third Strike', the Enterprise is recalled. Trip and T'Pol spend some time with T'Mir. Malcolm has a run in with Harris. Trip and Jon take in some waterpolo. And the Vulcans are taken to meet the Tuckers.
1. Part I

"You know, Captain." T'Mir sat at the far end of the table in the Captain's Mess, "I once encountered a fox in the desert on Vulcan. Once I was certain the animal would attack me, I found it best to engage him first. Effectively, I am the one alive today."

"Yeah, but we're talkin' 'bout a bear here, a big Grizzly," Trip said raising his arms up in imitation, "not some pidly desert fox."

"The foxes on Vulcan are roughly the size of earth's equine species, and have three heads." T'Pol said blandly, eyeing some readings on a PADD.

"Wha!" Trip snapped around to get another look at T'Mir, she was so little, a glass of water in alluring Vulcan fingers.

"Haha!" the Captain wiped his mouth, more to hide the laugh, "It looks like she's got you there, Trip."

"What age were you when you began living in the desert?" T'Pol asked.

"I was just beyond eleven standard years of age." T'Mir stated quietly.

"You were eleven!" It was Archer's turn to spin his head.

"And how old are ya now?" Trip blurted out without thinking. She looked a little shocked, and he was quick to apologize, "Sorry, I forgot."

"Not at all." she nodded, "I am now seventeen standard years."

"So what will you do after we destroy the shipyard?" the Captain asked. "Everything you knew is gone in this world."

"I have made new starts before, Captain." T'Mir answered. "I expect I will return to the cave in the desert and continue to make life as I always have."

"What? No." Trip said, "You'll stay here, on Enterprise." he looked back and forth between T'Pol and the Captain, "There'll always be a place for you here."

"I agree." the Captain said, raising a glass in toast, "Welcome to the family... of Enterprise." he grinned sheepishly.

"Here, here." Trip laughed, raising his glass.

T'Pol sighed and raised her glass as well. T'Mir nodded her thanks, but she wasn't ready to toast it yet.

A crewman brought out the first of the dinner plates, thick, juicy sirloin steaks for the captain and Trip.

Curiously, T'Mir leaned forward and sniffed, licking her lips slightly.

When the crewman returned, bringing bowls of plomeek broth, she looked marginally disappointed.

"Crewman," she said, catching him as he was about to return to the Galley, "I wonder if you might have another of those in there." She didn't point, merely gesticulated with the longing curiousity in her eyes.

The crewman eyed her, raising his own eyebrow in a convincing Vulcan imitation. "Of course, Ma'am."

T'Mir didn't smile, but her lips rolled in excited anticipation as the steak was set down in front of her. Eyeing it hungrily, she reached forward to take it. She stopped suddenly, her hands outstretched inches from it, she looked around to see if anyone had caught her error.

They all had, staring at her intently. "What're ya doin'?" Trip asked casually.

She folded her hands back into her lap quickly. "I apologize." she said, "I – forgot."

"Forgot?" Trip continued.

"Utensils." she indicated, picking up a knife and fork, as though they were a new concept.

They all watched her, unblinking.

"I was terrible as a child." she explained, poising the knife delicately over the slab of meat, "I doubt I've improved." She trepidatiously cut into the meat, securing a single large piece rather roughly.

With eye contact, the captain was forced to sit upright and give her a look that said '_go ahead, dig in, I understand this is perfectly normal_.'

She took the piece in her mouth and chewed defiantly. After several mastications, she swallowed with a drink of water. "Utensils had limited use in the desert."

"And meat?" T'Pol asked, her unease ill covered.

"In far greater abundance than vegetation."

A long silence passed in the Mess, T'Mir churlishly gulping down animal sirloin.

The Captain cleared his throat. "We've been called back to Earth for a few days. The World Waterpolo Championships will be on in San Francisco. Wanna catch some games between briefings, Trip?"

Trip's face relaxed. "You know I would love to, Captain. Hey, T'Mir, ever seen a waterpolo game?"

She gulped, a slight look of distaste at the over-large bolus. "Indeed, I do enjoy the sport." she stated, "However, this seems like an opportunity for you and the Captain to experience some male bonding, 'guy time', I believe."

Trip nearly burst an uncomfortable seam laughing. "Alright, then, next time."

"Of course." she smiled.

Opening Theme

"Home and Away"

When the dishes were all cleared away, and Archer lazily scratched his belly, and T'Pol declared she had work to do, they each went their separate ways. Trip walked T'Mir to her quarters, claiming it was on the way.

"Is there something more, Commander?" she asked as they silently approached the door of her temporary cabin.

"Trip is fine." he said, obviously distracted.

"But there is something else, Trip?"

"Yeah," he scratched the back of his neck subconsciously, "This is awkward."

"Certainly no more awkward than you travelling an extra three decks 'on the way' to your quarters." she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ah, right." he smiled, hoping she'd let him off the hook.

"What would be less awkward is for you to tell me the true purpose of your coming here."

"I, um, wanna know about T'Pol." he stated dumbly.

She continued to stare at him, raising her eyebrows subtly as if to tell him to explain.

"I mean, do I have a chance, you know?" he stuttered.

She raised her eyebrows again.

"I just, I feel her, okay, we've been through a lot together and I get this feeling like I've never had before, except I've had it all along for her. If you don't have any ideas, that's fine, we'll just forget about this." he turned to walk away, flustered and embarrassed.

"Trip." she called him back, "I have no experience from my prior life on this matter. We three were a family once, but I was very young and remember little of her. I do, however, have experience from this new setting."

He turned back hopefully, and took her invitation into her quarters.

"You must understand," she said taking a seat on her bed and indicating for him to do the same, "that it is illogical for a Vulcan to seek out a Human."

His face fell.

"But it is also illogical for T'Pol to avoid seeking a marriage bond with you."

"I don' care about marriage, just a courtship, would be nice."

"I'm afraid you've already pushed the limits of the Vulcan courtship. A bond has been formed, now a priest must sanctify it."

"Okay." Trip nodded slowly, puzzlement across his features.

"In Vulcan society, a marriage is arranged, preferably before the male experiences his first Pon Farr."

"A what?"

"I will get to that if you do not interrupt."

"Sorry."

"You know of the Pon Farr, a male's drive to procreate."

"The one that happens every seven years."

"Yes. Typically, on a male's first Pon Farr, the male and a suitable female are married by a priest. The male and female may have never met before in their lives. The priest forms a bond, and she too feels the effects of Pon Farr."

"And then..." Trip's voice trailed off, "Ah."

"Yes." she nodded, "That would be an area of awkward discussion."

Trip chuckled.

"This is a very unusual path for a Vulcan to choose, and while the Kir'Shara encourages personal selection of mates, I do not believe T'Pol will come to a decision in due time. By this, I mean you will probably be too elderly at that point to withstand the rigours of Vulcan intimacy."

He gulped. "So what do we do?"

"I will think on it." T'Mir rose off the bed, "Goodnight, Commander."


	2. Part II

The debriefing on Earth was long-winded and mindful of the Enterprise's direct role in the fast-coming Romulan war. Archer was tied up in meetings all day, so Trip had no one to bring him to the World Championships. He took T'Mir around the city instead.

When he finished telling her about the third monument of Zephram Cockram they'd encountered, she finally grew bored. "I did grow up here, Trip."

"Oh, yeah, with Kov." Trip's face fell, but he recovered his smile quickly, "He's in town, I think, we should go see him."

T'Mir couldn't hide her smile. "I'd like that very much."

Trip couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, but then if he could make his daughter happy, he would. Did he just call her his daughter? That's right, he told himself, and hugged the barely smiling, mostly human, passively resisting girl as they walked towards the transport.

Trip sauntered through the hangar like he had been there all his life, he even stopped and patted a few old buddies on the back. T'Mir felt very uncomfortable in her jeans and t-shirt, far removed from her typical robes on Trip's suggestion. Even the close presence of her father so jovial and relaxed didn't make it any easier.

"Kov!" Trip finally called out across the floor.

The dark haired Vulcan pushed his way out from under a shuttle and wiped a bit of grease off his hand. "Commander Tucker." he acknowledged.

T'Mir instantly felt lighter watching the two men shake hands.

"And who's this?" Kov asked, smiling innocently.

T'Mir felt a blow against her heart.

"That's a long story." Trip laughed.

"I'm afraid I don't have time, Trip, sorry."

"It involves nuclear quantum theory." Trip baited.

Kov raised an eyebrow smiling, "Perhaps, but a name first for the young lady."

"T'Mir." Trip said, "Elizabeth T'Mir."

Kov's head snapped around. "You don't say."

The men spent the next two hours talking, catching up on old times and engineering news. T'Mir sat in silence.

When they did leave, Trip nudged her playfully on the shoulder, like he'd imagined he always would. When she just let him push her around, he knew something was amiss. "What's wrong?" he asked gently. "I know Vulcan's can be pretty quiet, but you're more talkative than that. I would'a thought you'd fill in some of those gaps in your story to old Daddy Kov."

"He is not the same Kov I remember." she admitted in anger, "I don't know why I expected him to be."

He stopped and rubbed her back to try and comfort her, "I'm sorry. I never even thought..."

"It's alright, Trip." she pushed away from him, "I, like any other human, long for the familiar. That is all."

Trip gave her a sideways hug and ruffled her hair. "Ice cream?" he offered, "Anyone who's got my DNA loves ice cream."

"You will be disappointed that I prefer Vanilla."

"Whatever the little Vulcan wants." he laughed. He turned serious for a moment again. "Can I call you Lizzie?"

"Vulcan's do not see the logic in nicknames, however, Elizabeth will suffice."

They moved into line at the street vendor's cart. "Lizzie?" he pouted.

She tensed her features and looked around the ground for something to detract from the situation. "Commander Tucker, I'm afraid I don't feel entirely comfortable with that familiarity, for you neither are the same as the once-Trip I knew. My Papa called me Lizzie, but it was very intimate and used only in private. I hope you will understand."

"Oh." He paused for a moment to take their ice creams.

"Perhaps, in time." T'Mir comforted him dryly, taking her own cone.

Trip put on a smile. "I hope so."

Malcolm stepped onto the transporter pad. The suave dress shirt and neat khaki pants over Italian leather shoes was a perfect disguise to his true purpose for visiting Earth.

"Have a good time, Lieutenant." the ensign at the transporter controls smiled suggestively.

Malcolm nodded tersely, and a second later felt his molecules being pulled apart and resequenced into electromagnetic waves. Instantaneously, he was at the designated transporter site on a San Francisco street.

They had arranged the meeting at the infamous Chateau de Reve hotel. Typical Harris, the man had too much influence to be good for him. Malcolm was only a block away when it happened.

Large, burly men dressed in black were suddenly on either side of him, grabbing him before he even had a chance to react, pressing a hypospray into his neck. Then Malcolm blacked out.

"I'm glad we got to do this, Trip." Jon announced as they settled into seats in the humid aquadome.

"Me too, Jon." Trip settled down with a big bag of popcorn, "It's been a long time coming."

"I guess we've both had a big wrench thrown into our lives lately."

Trip's eyebrows raised over the soda he was sucking. "I'll say." he nodded, "In the form of one lithe Vulcan – another one, Jon!"

"How are you coping?"

"I guess I finally convinced myself she's not out to destroy the Enterprise. So, pretty well, I'd say."

Jon laughed.

"But really, I like having her around. She takes some of the sting off, you know. And T'Pol and I are talking a little more. Off record, Jon, T'Mir even thinks T'Pol and I have a future somewhere out there."

It was Archer's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Why Trip," Jon laughed, "off record, that's fantastic. Kind of cute too, don't you think?"

"What?"

Jon's eyes sparked with mischief. "Well, your daughter seems to be trying to get her parents back together."

Now, Trip laughed. "I don't think so, I kinda cornered her and asked about it."

Jon was about to say something, witty probably, but the teams appeared on deck and the stands erupted in cheers.

"I'm afraid I don't understand." T'Pol admitted.

"Of course not." T'Mir answered back casually, "It's meant to be accepted, not understood."

The two were making their way down a busy alleyway of vendors. T'Mir reached out to finger a bag on a rack. "You see, I touch this bag, and I know it is real. I speak to you and I know you are real. But you see, if I were to say, 'I have touched the bag,' you too would know it was real, 'I have felt you' and you know that you are real, but you have not touched the bag and you understand it as real as you are yourself. So, can you question the reality of an object outside yourself without questioning your own existence."

"Your metaphor is confusing to me."

"It is not precise, but that is how I make my way now, knowing things I have experienced but not experienced, things that have come to pass and yet have not. I do not know what will happen in the future, but given a thread of something I once knew as real, I know the rest."

"But your act of knowing, your presence must change the timeline as it unfolds around you."

"Yes. And that is my intent, but you must recognize that the external forces are not affected by my presence until my intent is exerted upon them directly. The opposition will not change their way of thinking, their technologies will not be affected, the situation we enter is the same, but the outcome is different."

"An interesting sort of logic. I must meditate on this."

"Of course." T'Mir nodded, and exchanged some coins with the merchant for the bag. To T'Pol's quizzically raised eyebrow, she answered, "So that I will always know that you have existed."

They walked in silence toward the transport.

"Tell me, Commander, has my presence upset you?"

"You have disrupted the normal proceedings of the ship, however, it seems that would be a positive action."

"But you, have I upset you?"

T'Pol paused and turned to look at her, waiting until their eyes met. "No."


	3. Part III

"Hey! T'Mir!" Trip shouted, running up behind her at her quarters just as the doors slid open and she stepped inside.

"Trip." she greeted him with a stoic nod.

"Hey, I got'cha somethin'." he smiled proudly, thrusting a bright yellow rubber cap at her.

She smiled knowingly at him. "Thank you, Commander, but you should keep that, I already have one. I trust my bet on the Chargers came through."

"Yeah..." he stared after her, crossing into her quarters.

She went to a storage bin and pulled out an identical cap, sling-shoting it at him.

"What the...?" he laughed, realization suddenly dawning on him. "You knew! Well, that ain't fair. The Captain and I aren't payin' up, if that's what yer expectin'."

She smiled at his laughter. "Perhaps something in it's stead. The Captain was the one who agreed I could place the bet."

"Oh yeah," he scratched his chin, sauntering casually around the room, "What did you have in mind?"

"Mississippi." she answered boldly.

"Mississippi?" Trip was taken aback. "Oh no, they're not going to be the same as you remember 'em, T'Mir. I've already crossed that line and put you through that much upset, I don't wanna do it again so soon."

She smiled and shook her head. "I have never met them."

"You haven't?" Trip's mood switched to perplexion, "I swear I would have taken you to see them."

"Timing did not allow for it." T'Mir continued to smile knowingly, "I would like to meet them."

"Yeesh." Trip ran his hand over his face, "We should do that then."

"Now," T'Mir sat on her bed, "Tell me about T'Pol."

"Admiral," Captain Archer used his most demanding voice on the row of men on the opposite side of the table, "there is reason to believe there is a significant threat out there."

"Archer, you're just not making sense." Admiral Greene responded from the table's centre, "You claim to have an operative from the future – but not one of Daniels' men – who won't give you the name of the organization she's working for. You don't have any proof of her story other than she arrived in one of our Shuttlepods that had the right markings on it, and a hell of a lot else, it sounds, and she has a betting knowledge of sports events.

"And you said her name was T'Mir, that sounds Vulcan, Jon, Vulcan's don't believe in time travel, or bet! You can't expect me to just send you out gallivanting with the government's resources under you, with all respect, I should have you committed."

Archer frowned, he knew it would be difficult to convince his superiors – at least the Vulcan's weren't there, watching over them anymore. "Look, Admiral, wherever the information came from, I've seen what these ships can do, and it doesn't look good for us. All I'm saying is, we've got a lead on where these ships are being produced, all we have to do is take a look and see what we can see."

Admiral Greene rubbed his temples – both sides, it had been a very long day, as all days with Archer were. "Okay. The Enterprise will go out there – in the name of exploration only, am I clear? Try and make contact with the Romulans, forge an alliance if you can. See if there is actually anything we need to worry about. I'll expect full reports of anything you do find, and I want you to consult me before any kind of action, understood?"

Archer smiled, "Yes, sir."

"I mean it, Jon."

"I know, Admiral."

"We can't be the aggressors here."

"It's understood."

"Good."

"Hey, T'Pol," Trip hurriedly sat down across from the Vulcan at a table in the Mess hall, "I was gonna take T'Mir to see my folks, I thought you might like to come."

T'Pol looked up from her sensor readings and tea briefly. "That would be agreeable, Trip."

Trip had opened his mouth to speak but was momentarily shocked – he'd had a whole host of reasons she should join them and was beginning to launch into the first dozen when he realized she'd already agreed. "Alright then." he said, "I'll let 'em know you're comin'. We'll take a shuttle down at 0900."

She nodded to say that she had understood, and returned to her readings.

Trip just shook his head happily, and left the mess hall.

"Now, don't mind my parents too much. They're real nice folks, but they've never met a Vulcan before, not really, so they don't know all the rules."

"I have been told they are 'eccentric'." T'Pol stated.

"You could say that." Trip rubbed pensively down his cheekbone, "'Friendly', might be a better way to describe them, 'homey'."

T'Mir put a halt to the awkward discussion, her own apprehension making her short. "Whatever the exact definition of their characteristics, I'm certain they will be more than adequate hosts."

Malcolm found himself bound to a chair – a comfortable chair at least, with nylon ropes that didn't hurt if he didn't struggle. Harris appeared from around a darkened corner.

"I'm sorry we had to do it this way, Malcolm, but regarding your recent hesitations, we had no way to be certain who you were working for."

"No, sir." Malcolm replied ironically.

"No, indeed." Harris mused, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of Malcolm, his legs straddling the backrest. "You picked up a passenger. Who is she?"

Malcolm eyed the large man to his left. "I would say I don't know who you're talking about, but we both know that would be a lie."

"Good." Harris responded. "So, instead you'll tell us."

A pause earned Malcolm a punch to the gut from the man to his left.

"Her name is T'Mir."

"Alright. We know Captain Archer is planning on keeping her aboard – why?"

"She has information about the Romulans, about ships they're building."

Harris was intrigued. "What kind of information?"

Malcolm held himself with perfect dignity. "Shield frequencies – their shields are almost impenetrable, she was able to give us codes to burn right through them."

"Impressive, anything else?"

"She's promised the location of their shipyard – she wants us to destroy it."

"Good, Mister Reed. Now, where did she come from?"

"I don't know." Malcolm replied readily.

The burly man to his left slugged him across the face this time.

"Come on, Malcolm."

"We picked her up in the Mett System, she was in the debris left by a gravitational anomaly between the binary suns."

"And where was she before that?"

"I don't know" Malcolm looked up to the man to his left, "I really don't know."

The man to the left punched him again across the face.

"I – Don't – Know." Malcolm forced out, looking up again, daring the man to his left to hit him one more time.

Instead, Harris stopped him with a hand held upright.

"But..." Malcolm continued, "There's a rumour on the ship that she's Elizabeth – the Elizabeth created by Terra Prime."

Harris sat up in his chair, evidently shocked by the insight.

"Do you believe this, Malcolm."

"She told us so."

"Mom? Pop?" Trip yelled, letting the screen door bang shut behind him. Past the foyer, he showed T'Pol and T'Mir into the living room and dropped the bags he was carrying. He ducked his head through one arched doorway, looking for his parents, "Mom?"

"Oh, Trip!" an exuberant woman called from the opposite entrance to the room.

"Mom!"

The two crossed the room and embraced in a forceful hug.

"Trip!" A tall, lean man, taller even than Trip himself, let his voice boom across the room, causing winces from sensitive Vulcan hearing.

"Dad!" Trip yelled, and the two embraced firmly, clapping each other on the back.

"Ah, it's so good to be home." Trip sighed, holding his parents out at arms-length and studying them happily. "Come on now, there's some lovely ladies I'd like you ta meet."

The two elderly Tuckers turned, following their son as he rounded a couch to stand with his travelling companions.

"This here's T'Pol." he said proudly, "and this," he stood back for a moment letting them get a full view, "this is Elizabeth."

The room was silent for a moment, the only motion in the room came from Trip's nervous energy and slight periodic motion.

The elder Tuckers stared at the Vulcans. They had known they were coming, and as much as Trip's letter had revealed about them, there had been no way to prepare them for the unsmiling beings that stood before them. Charles stood up rigidly straight. Ann Tucker forced out a polite smile.

It was T'Pol who moved first. With a single deep breath of resignation, she strode forth, extending her hand. "It is pleasurable to meet you." she said formally.

Ann jerked out her hand cautiously, grasping the Vulcan's tentatively. "It's nice to meet you too."

Charles was a little more natural in his introduction. "Ma'am." he said politely, bowing and kissing her proffered hand on its backside, to the surprise of everyone.

T'Mir quickly made up her resolve to approach next. She raised her hand in a traditional salute. "Live long and prosper." she said by way of formal greeting, "I am customarily called by 'T'Mir', however, I would accept the name Elizabeth with great honour in this house."


	4. Part IV

"Trip, it's so good to have you home at last." Ann Tucker placed another long awaited kiss on her son's cheek. She moved off to finish the pastry she was in the middle of mixing. "Your brother, Jimmy, is coming up from Ireland with the family. They should be here soon."

"Good. I haven't seen them in forever. How's Em' been? And little Kieran?"

"Kieran is gettin' tall, Trip, you won't hardly recognize him."

"I can't wait for T'Mir ta meet 'em." Trip dug around in a basket of vegetables for a fresh carrot, trying to distract himself. "You like her, right, Mom?"

She turned suddenly, "Oh, yeah, sweetie." eyes darting in slight panic, "a right little angel, she is."

Trip looked up, hurt showing in his eyes. "Come on, Mom. I know it's a bit much to get used to. What about T'Pol?"

Ann put down her baking, and leaned intimately on the counter across from her son. "I know they mean a lot to you, Charles, but we don't know them as well as you do. That doesn't mean we don't like them, we're just not used to them yet."

Trip heaved a giant sigh and sat upright.

"T'Pol was very kind today, helping me in the garden. She's very neat, as well, she folded all the laundry for me yesterday. And she's helped your father tremendously with his back. Very generous."

"And T"Mir?"

Ann looked for something to detract from the situation. "I don't know that she likes us very much, Trip"

"She likes ya just fine, Mom. It was her idea to come here, she wanted to meet you. Ya just have to try a little harder with Vulcans sometimes."

"She's spent the entire time in her room or outside. She was gone all day yesterday and didn't come home until late last night."

Trip sighed. "I know," he apologized, "She's a little different. She just needs to be outside, I think – you know she grew up in a desert, by herself all the time, I think Enterprise is a little much for her."

"Hi." T'Mir's quavering voice alerted the Tuckers of her presence, and that their conversation had been overheard. "I apologize for my seeming disappearance, I just ... appreciate your gardens very much, and the forest behind is uniquely fascinating."

Ann smiled, taking to heart Trip's words about trying harder. "Well, you're here now, sweetie, so get an apron on, and help me with these apple turnovers.

T'Mir did as she was told. Apprehensively, she took an apple from the bushel on the counter and placed it on the counter, upsidedown. She took several more and did the same, lining them up in neat rows.

"Trip?" she said in frustration, eyeing her perfectly-aligned fruit.

This caused the two elder Tuckers to suddenly look over to the youngest. "What in God's name are ya doin'?" Trip laughed, coming around the counter to help her out. He flashed his mother a glance that suggested she put away her indignant look of shock and pretend nothing happened.

"I was 'turning over' the apples." she said with Vulcan innocence.

Trip laughed again. "No, it's a pastry. We have to peel the apples." He picked up the fruit peeler his mother had left beside the basket. "Like this." he showed her, peeling the first of twenty apples in a row.

"Malcolm!" Hoshi exclaimed, breaking away from her family as they wandered the busy streets of little Japan. "What happened to you?"

He staggered along the busy alley, keeping himself upright by the wall of an old building. His left eye was black and badly swollen, blood drained from the corner of his mouth, and he curled over his abdomen giving him a noticeable limp. He seemed not to notice her or any of his surroundings until she was barely a foot from him.

"Hoshi?" It took him a moment to recognize her before he finally smiled and the wild look in his eyes gave way to tiredness.

"What happened, Malcolm?" she asked again, helping him sit none-too-gracefully on the ground.

He rested on the wall, his head lolling back and forth. "Harris." he muttered.

Hoshi reached for her communicator, flashing a last look at her concerned family. "This is Ensign Sato to Enterprise, I need two to beam up."

"Jimmie!" choruses rang out behind him as Trip opened up his arms to greet his older brother. The two hugged fiercely – two remaining Tucker children.

Jimmie moved on to meet his parents.

Trip took an exaggerated double-take of his nephew, Kieran. "Hey, big guy, hardly recognized ya."

Kieran stopped in front of his kneeling uncle's outstretched arms and stood definitively. "Mum says I've got a cousin."

Trip stood up, taking a minute to scratch his chin. "Yeah, I guess you do." He ruffled the boy's hair and turned him around to find T'Mir.

"Lieutenant Reid has some internal bleeding, and a not-so-minor concussion to match those bruises." Phlox told the Captain as he illustrated his findings with scans from the imaging chamber.

"What happened, Doctor?"

"It would appear that Lieutenant Reed has been interrogated, Captain."

Hoshi gasped in the background. "Will he be alright?"

"Yes," Phlox smiled, "There isn't anything here that time and a little medical know-how won't fix."

T'Mir wound her hands around each other apprehensively. The feeling had been building since Enterprise had docked at Spacedock, but it seemed to have rapidly accelerated in her foremother's Mississippi home. Perhaps it was the earlier conversation between Trip and his mother that she had walked in on, or the muted conversations between her uncle and his wife that she couldn't help but overhear.

As she helped to set the dinner table, Trip pulled her aside.

"Trip," she complained, attempting to pull her arm away from his grip, "I have been instructed to 'set the table', you must let me finish before the evening meal or your mother will have difficulties serving."

"Don' worry 'bout it." he said softly. "Listen," he said, taking her into the house's back room and shutting the door, "Everything okay?"

"I am well."

"I mean, are you okay? You're not exactly smilin' out there is all." Trip tried to smile, hoping it would pass to her.

"I am Vulcan." she stated flatly, "I do not smile."

"No, but you're human too." he said more forcefully, "And this is your human family. I've seen you smile lots of times, you can be human here."

"No, I can't." she bit back – a first show of emotion since she'd arrived – throwing Trip's hand off her arm with extra force. "I don't belong here, Trip." she hissed, and then left the room, slamming the door behind her, and covering her ears as she did so.

"Malcolm, you can't go back down there." Hoshi pleaded, keeping up with the determined Lieutenant as he stormed the corridor.

He finally stopped and turned to her. "It'll be alright, Hoshi."

Hoshi paused, letting Malcolm think for a minute that he had assuaged her fears and take off once more. She ran behind him, "They nearly killed you last time, Malcolm."

"There was a ... misunderstanding. They didn't know if I could be trusted". He looked at her but didn't stop. "Har – the man I met with, he assured me it would be okay this time."

"Still, I'm coming with you."

He stopped again. "Hoshi, I won't let you get dragged into this."

"Into what, Malcolm?"

He started down the hallway again without answering her.

"Section 31?" She called after him.

He turned to her, disbelief and panic cutting across his otherwise paranoid face.

"I'm a Comm. Officer, remember, anything coming through that transceiver is my business."

"Alright." he nodded tersely, "Come on, then."

Captain Archer ambled onto his Bridge. Tired and haggard he collapsed into his chair. "Travis," he asked of the young pilot in front of him, "how was your week?"

Travis turned around, eyes full of bright exuberance. "It was great, Captain. I went rock climbing in Canada with some old training buddies of mine. We got halfway through the badlands in the mid-west before Henderson got dehydrated and we had to turn back. But that was even better, because we ended up skiing instead. The resort at Whistler, do you know it? There's this great common room with a huge fireplace and bearskin rugs – real old style, you know – and you can go hottubbing outside in the snow. And there were these gorgeous –."

Archer put up a weary hand to stop the ensign's elaborate discussion. He laughed, "I'm glad you had a good time, Travis."

The ensign nodded shyly, embarrassed to have overstepped his bounds again. "Thank you, sir."

Trip and T'Pol arrived from the turbolift and took their stations without comment. T'Mir appeared with them, taking a new post behind the Captain. The three brought with them an intangible air of tension.

Hoshi and Malcolm arrived shortly after, grim smiles adding only to the suddenly gloomy atmosphere of the Bridge.

Jon sighed. "Okay, Ensign, get us out of here."

"Aye, sir."


End file.
